


The Prince and the Gatekeeper

by Idenna



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idenna/pseuds/Idenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So grave, this child. He watches, just as Heimdall himself does; eyes flicking between his father, his brother and this name-given-a-face before choosing to speak.<br/>“How far do you see, Gatekeeper?” <br/>“Across all dimensions and to the end of time, little prince.”</p>
<p>Five meetings between Loki and Heimdall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Five meetings between Loki and Heimdall, for Hella's birthday.

Odin introduces his sons to the Guardian of the Bifrost when they are barely grown enough to sit astride their ponies. They trail proudly behind Odin through the Gates and down the rainbow bridge to the Observatory, stirrups buckled high and heads bouncing in time with the trot set by their father’s war horse, scrambling down without much grace when he calls a halt.

Heimdall regards the boys from his imposing height; observes bright Thor stare at Hofud with childish yearning, fingers twitching to touch and restrained by his father’s heavy hand. Dark haired Loki meets his gaze evenly and without blinking. So grave, this child. He watches, just as Heimdall himself does, eyes flicking between his father, his brother and this name-given-a-face before choosing to speak.

“How far do you see, Gatekeeper?” A thin voice, careful words; those of a prince who already knows his place in the scheme of things.

“Across all dimensions and to the end of time, little prince.”

“Surely you cannot see _everything,_ ” Loki insists, sharp pale face pinching with suspicion.

“Of course he can!” Thor blurts, indignant and squirming. “Father says so!”

“Father also says you have hair like a maiden.”

“He does _not –!_ ”

“Boys, _boys!_ ” Odin booms, clapping a hand on each child’s shoulder and chuckling with mirth. “Heimdall sees all, Loki, my son. This I swear to you. He guards our lands without sleep, fear or favour. Heed him, both of you, for he is as stalwart and honourable an ally as ever you may find.”

Thor looks up at the shining golden figure with easy adoration. “We shall be friends, you and I.”

Heimdall inclines his head agreeably.

“We shall, young one.”

“And we,” Loki says quickly, twisting his hands in the hem of his tunic.

“Indeed.”

The boy’s shoulders drop in infinitesimal relief.

“ _Ask him,_ ” Thor hisses.

“Ask him what, Thor?”

“About the – fine, be that way!” The little blond stamps a foot then visibly composes himself. “Heimdall,” he begins purposefully, “ _my brother_ and I want to know if you watch us all the time. Because mother says it’s rude to listen at doors and it wouldn’t be fair if you told father what we’ve planned for his nameday.”

“Heimdall would never do that,” Loki says quietly, eyes fixed on the Gatekeeper. “If father says he is honourable, then he is honourable.”

Heimdall rumbles wordless assent and folds his hands neatly over the hilt of his sword. As Odin says, he sees all – he does not miss the tiny satisfied quirk of Loki’s mouth. 


	2. A Hunting Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor learns to hunt. Loki learns to disappear.

Thor learns to hunt. Loki learns to disappear.

When he appears in her sitting room, their mother forgets Thor's bravery and the trophy he has brought her and clutches her younger son to her breast, fingers trembling as she rains kisses on his dark hair and whispers admonishments in a voice half fond and half fearful.

"Where did you learn such a thing, my Loki?" Frigga says, stroking his face softly. "My clever boy. Swear that you will not do it again, I feared you dead!"

"I am sorry to have frightened you, mother.” Loki covers her hand with his own and holds it to his cheek.  “Upsetting you was never my intention."

His mother sighs and smiles as Loki takes her elbow and steers her back to her chair by the fireplace, young face composed and gracious.

"I am glad."

She is.

“I will speak with your father this evening. We will arrange a tutor for you, if this is where your interests lie.”

Loki bows his head respectfully.

“Thank you, mother. You are most kind.”

Moment stolen, Thor sighs with impatience.

"We could have used that little trick of yours when we were hunting today. Why didn't you come? Sigmund invited you, too."

Loki’s eyes sweep up his brother's stocky frame and down his own slight one. He has no gift for swordplay; they both know it. His face tightens.

"If Sigmund wanted me in his hunting party, he would have sought me out himself," he snaps, then catches himself and continues more calmly, if not kindly. "And as you see, I've weightier uses for my time than running about shouting, sweating and stabbing at wild animals."

" _I_ wanted you to come," Thor says quietly. "So if you want to, next time..."

"Thank you, brother. I will bear that in mind."

“Do. You are...you are always welcome.”

Confused by Loki’s sudden curtness, Thor takes his leave.

Loki does not join his brother on the next hunt or the one that follows. Instead, he practices his forbidden vanishing trick behind his tutor’s back and struggles to force into being some skill with a collection of wickedly sharp throwing knives looted from Elfheim that he in turn pilfers from the armoury when the guard is not looking.

Heimdall watches, because someone should. The child has a gift for evading notice when he most sorely needs noticing. The knives are much too large to sit comfortably in Loki's small hands (a carefully considered choice of weapon for one so slender, yet lacking in finesse), but to his credit the boy keeps throwing, mouth set in a grim determined line even when his fingertips begin bleeding into the snow. Eventually a knife finds its mark, and Loki bares his teeth in savage victory. He retires to his chamber, bandages his fingers with clean linen and wears gloves to supper, where he mentions to Thor that perhaps he will join him the next time he and his troupe of followers feel the need to kill their own lunch.

Thor whoops and throws a companionable arm around his brother’s shoulders, while Loki smiles modestly into his goblet.

One spring morning before Thor can arrange another hunting party, Heimdall senses Loki in the forest beyond the city walls, alone and armed with a handful of throwing knives, stalking a boar. Loki makes sure to get downwind of the pig, draws a steadying breath through his nose, takes careful aim and throws. The knife hits off-kilter and the boar squeals its fury, snorts and charges.

Loki runs for his life, too panicked to disappear, eyes frantically scanning the forest for a low enough branch to hoist himself up out of reach...and runs headfirst into one of his father’s guards. He hears metal singing against metal, then a thump.

When he opens his eyes, he sees blood dripping thick and wet from the guard’s sword and the stump of the boar’s cloven neck. The boy shakes for a careless second before brushing himself off and eyes the guard suspiciously.

“Who sent you?”

The guard snaps to attention. “Heimdall sent for you, my prince. Please come with me.”

“Oh. V-very well.” Loki looks at the dead boar and wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Arrange to have that brought to the kitchens when you return to your post.”

Loki stalks back to the castle twenty paces in front of his escort and heads straight for the stables, where he is informed that the Gatekeeper is with the Allfather and not to be disturbed.

That evening Heimdall glances at the doorway of the observatory and spies a plate piled high with honeyed pork and fresh bread accompanied by a hefty tankard of mead. He smiles.


	3. A borrowed crown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "...We could have taken the nine realms together, my friend. Perhaps one day I will borrow the crown and we’ll do just that.”

The years pass and the thin clever boy grows into a man, still slender as a willow sapling with a voice smooth as honey and a mind sharp as flint. The midsummer days are warm and bright, and he is cold in his brother’s shadow.

“Heimdall, your fealty lies with the _crown_ of Asgard, does it not?” Loki begins on the evening of Thor’s Choosing, against the far-off noisy backdrop of a feast to celebrate the worst kept secret in the realm.  

“Aye, prince. I will serve the rulers of Asgard until death claims me.”

“Hmm,” the young man muses, silky voice airy and fluid on the warm night air. “A shame, in so many ways. You deserve better than a life in thrall to my boorish brother. We could have taken the nine realms together, my friend. Perhaps one day I will borrow the crown and we’ll do just that.” He turns with almost comical deliberateness so that Heimdall will see his smile and accept what is, of course, the jest of an exasperated but adoring brother. The smile is brittle enough to give even the greenest servant pause – he will need practice for this new life that awaits him.

“Time will tell, Loki,” Heimdall offers solemnly, piercing gaze fixed on a distant star. “Should you not be with your family this night?”

Loki chuckles.

“But I _am_ there.”

Heimdall pauses as he searches the banquet hall and watches Loki’s shade flicker in and out of existence, silent and nodding politely when it is hailed.

“Cleverly done, prince. And yet your father will not be fooled; your absence will be noticed.”

“Gatekeeper, you know as well as I do that Thor would call for a feast to celebrate the sun rising if he happened to be awake and could rouse the kitchens in time. This is but the day of his Choosing; we’ve a Coronation to make it through yet and if my life is to become a march from one quaff to the next afterward I will take my peace when I can find it.”

Heimdall observes him carefully, watching but not watching, waiting.

“Perhaps patience for drunkards and simpletons is merely another quality I lack,” Loki murmurs bitterly.

“Your brother loves his people, Loki. And he loves and needs you. He will not forsake you.”

“ _I_ love our people,” Loki spits, “and my brother is a fool who will bring Asgard to its knees. You who sees everything surely sees that, even when the Allfather does not!”

Back in the banquet hall Thor greets Loki’s shade with the full force of his inebriated cheer, attempts to sling an arm over his brother’s shoulder and falls straight through him. The revellers around him burst into raucous laughter and once his spilt cup of mead is replaced, he joins them. “My brother, the trickster!” Thor bellows merrily, climbing unsteadily to his feet. “Where have you hidden yourself this time?” From his seat at the head of the table, it is evident that Odin has noticed his younger son’s deception. The Allfather’s expression is not angry or even impatient – he looks _worried_ , almost fearful.

Thor is a fool, this Heimdall knows well. Odin’s firstborn is headstrong and untried, and thinks himself immortal in the manner of all sons of great fathers. Loki is no better, for all his cleverness. In many ways they are no different from the small boys who trotted their ponies behind their father to meet him all those years ago.

“I was meant for more than this,” Loki says softly.

“You are destined for great things, prince. Have faith in your father,” Heimdall rumbles.

“So you say. And yet I never seem to be enough for either.”


	4. What is and was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surely you cannot see everything.

_Surely you cannot see everything._

For all his gifts, Heimdall did not see this. Feared it, certainly, but hoped it would never come to pass.

The Allfather slumbers, and Loki _knows_.

He has long suspected something of the truth – how could he not? He is no fool, he bears no resemblance to his blue-eyed family in manner, gifts or reflection, has always sensed himself as _otherlike_ – but to have it confirmed by his father, and _such_ an otherness...

_Perhaps one day I’ll borrow the crown._

Loki embraces Frigga with gentle arms and hard eyes, and the woman is too grief-stricken to notice. His soft words guide her to Odin’s bedside and his whispers assure her that while his beloved brother and father have left her, _he_ never will. He will take care of her. _My dear boy. I would be lost without you._ And thus, with the Queen’s blessing, Loki takes up Gungnir and strides to the throne room a King.

There is something of the boy with the stolen throwing knives and bleeding fingers in the man who looks down at his brother’s companions from the Allfather’s seat, and much more of the bitter youth who always knew this was not meant for him. Loki sends Sif and the Warriors Three away with obvious pleasure, and vanishes from Heimdall’s sight.

_Thor is a fool who will bring Asgard to its knees._

He appears on Midgard before his broken brother, strange and otherworldly and awkward in his foreign clothing. His lips drip poison, and Thor drinks in his lies with the gratitude of the truly lonely.

Heimdall imagines he can feel Asgard’s foundations begin to rumble.

_We could take the nine realms together, you and I._

Heimdall will guard the Allfather’s domain. There is no-one else.

There are footsteps on the Bifrost. He knows without seeking who they belong to.  
As Loki sweeps past, glacier blue and blood-eyed, Heimdall is certain he hears him whisper “traitor.”


	5. The end, and the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes, little brother, I fear you will be the end of us all.”
> 
> (Holy crap, I finished something. And it only took a year! Er, happy belated birthday again, Hella? ^^;)

Loki returns to Asgard gagged and chained. He looks haggard; dishevelled, dirty and dead-eyed, and he leans unconsciously into Thor’s iron grip as his brother sets his jaw and marches him out of Heimdall’s partly reconstructed Observatory and up the Bifrost through the throngs of silent guards and less-subtle jeering soldiers.

The throne room is deserted save for the Allfather. Thor stares straight ahead, and forces Loki to his knees.

“You were wrong, my son,” Odin rumbles, and waves a hand at Thor. “Remove the gag. I would have him answer for this new strife he brings upon us.”

Loki wets his lips and offers Odin a thin, bitter smile. His voice, when it comes, is rough from disuse.

“ _You_ were wrong, _Allfather_.”

Odin lets out a furious shout and raises Gungnir, and Loki flies backwards and thumps into a statue with an involuntary yelp. As he slides to the floor, he begins to laugh.

“It is only your mother’s mercy that has spared you from being chained and doused in serpents’ venom until the end of time, you fool!” Odin snaps.

“Mother always was too kind,” Loki chuckles.

“Begone,” Odin growls. “Use this time to think upon your sins.”

Thor hefts Loki to his feet not unkindly and shepherds him out the door and towards the dungeon. His face is drawn and grave as he escorts Loki into his new quarters, and he turns toward him sadly as he makes to leave.

“Sometimes, little brother, I fear you will be the end of us all.”

Loki smiles. “Come now, brother. Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

***

Ragnarok comes not at the hands of Loki, but at the hands of a mortal.

Quiet in his cell, Loki feels the foundations of Asgard shake under his feet, and closes his eyes.

***

At the end of the Bifrost, three figures – two large and one small – gaze out towards the stars.

The smallest releases Thor’s great hand and looks up at Heimdall with his wide, clear eyes.

“Hello, Gatekeeper. I am told we knew each other in another life. I should very much like to make your acquaintance once more.”


End file.
